


Undercover

by Anonymous



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cuddlefucking, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Oral Sex, Smut, Surprise Kissing, Undercover as a Couple, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-22 21:23:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23500621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “I’m sorry about this,” Pike said in a rush, bracketing himself around you, effectively pinning you to the nearby wall in between two paintings. “Just play along.”“Sorry for wha—”Then he kissed you.Marcus Pikekissedyou.
Relationships: Marcus Pike/Reader, Marcus Pike/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 81
Collections: Anonymous





	Undercover

So far, the operation had been a bust; you had hoped to catch the reclusive money-laundering gallery owner at the fundraiser event tonight, but he hadn’t shown. After conceding defeat, you and Agent Pike slipped into one of the roped-off side rooms in the museum to discuss a way forward.

You felt incredibly uncomfortable in your attire for the night: a silky slip of a dress that showed far more skin than you were accustomed to showing. But this was a “trendy” look, supposedly, and you were masquerading as art critics at this stupid event. Your FBI-issued handgun was concealed in a hidden panel in your purse and you _hated_ not having it on your hip in your trusty uniform holster. You hated everything about this outfit. The fact that you had to youtube “how to apply an adhesive bra” just to wear this godforsaken dress tonight—

“You alright?” Pike asked, looking at you with a furrowed brow. You realized your face was scrunched up in a scowl, thinking about your goddamned flimsy bra, which had thankfully stayed on the whole night so far.

“Yeah,” you said, “just yearning for my uniform right now.”

“Tell me about it,” Pike said, gesturing to his outfit. “I’m wearing _skinny jeans_.”

It was decidedly not his style. You usually saw him in business casual or his FBI uniform. When you met on the weekends for coffee, he’d wear a leather jacket—and as far as you could tell, that was as adventurous as he got when it came to fashion. Skinny jeans? Not Marcus Pike, not in a million years. (But he _did_ have nice legs, you had to admit.)

“So, our friend hasn’t shown,” you said, changing the subject to more pressing matters.

“I had a feeling,” Pike muttered. “Back to the drawing board, I guess.”

“Well, it was worth a shot,” you said with a sigh. “Let’s call it a night.”

Suddenly, Pike tensed, his face paling. You took a breath, about to ask him what was wrong, when he whispered harshly:

“ _S_ _omeone’s coming._ ”

You jumped when you heard it: footsteps sounding from the hallway where you came in. You whipped your head around, looking for another way out, but the only other exit was a door that read ‘EMERGENCY EXIT – ALARM WILL SOUND’.

 _Shit_.

“I’m sorry about this,” Pike said in a rush, bracketing himself around you, effectively pinning you to the nearby wall, in between two paintings. “Just play along.”

“Sorry for wha—”

Then he kissed you.

Marcus Pike _kissed_ you.

You froze. What the fuck was he doing? How was this supposed to help? What was this—

Your train of thought was interrupted by his thigh wedging its way between your legs, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine and making a filthy noise tumble from your throat, unbidden.

“Good,” he whispered, mouthing kisses along your neck. “Louder.”

You moaned again at his words, not really understanding why. _Just play along_ , he had said. Whatever the hell that meant.

Suddenly, a booming voice rang out. “This section is _CLOSED_!”

Piked jumped away from you. You snapped to attention, head whipping around to see a familiar face: one of the lackeys of the corrupt museum owner stood some distance away, a blinding flashlight trained on you. You’d seen this man on surveillance footage in your briefing this week. He was the muscle. Usually the very _armed_ muscle. Shit.

“S-sorry,” Pike said, his voice suddenly meek, that of a geeky art critic and not a federal agent. He raised a hand to scratch the back of his head, making a big fuss of the movement, while the other hand subtly reached behind him, hovering near where his gun was covertly tucked in the back of his belt. “My girlfriend and I—”

“Section’s closed!” He barked, gesturing with his flashlight. “Get a room.”

You felt your stomach drop back into place. _He just thinks we’re horny artists. Thank god._

“Sorry, sir,” Pike said, taking you by the hand and making a swift exit.

–

You didn’t speak a word to each other as you scurried out of the gallery and into the side street where Pike had parked. He rummaged in his jacket pocket for his keyfob and frantically pressed at it until his car’s headlights flashed up ahead. Once you were inside, you put your head in your hands and let out a huge breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Holy _shit_ ,” you rasped.

Pike didn’t respond, just methodically put on his seatbelt, started the car, and drove away. At the next red light, Pike reached over and buckled you in. You were so out of it that you had forgot.

“Thanks,” you said, voice a little more steady than it was previously.

“I’m sorry about what happened back there,” he said, eyes on the road.

“Uh, me too? I thought we were done for,” you said. You thought you were going to get _shot_ , but you didn’t dare say it.

Pike shook his head. “I mean, I’m sorry I kissed you. It wasn’t right.”

“What are you apologizing for? You saved our asses.”

“By assaulting you? Yeah, great job I did,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, you didn’t assault me, Pike. It was… surprising, but I wasn’t upset.” _Quite the opposite, actually._

Pike gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly—you could hear the fake leather squeak against his hands. “Nevertheless, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You sighed. “Seriously, I’m okay. Stop getting in your head.”

He didn’t seem totally convinced, but he didn’t protest any further. You sat in silence for the rest of the car ride.

–

“This is you,” Pike said when he turned onto your street, gesturing with his head towards your apartment building. It wasn’t much to look at, but it was in a considerably nicer neighborhood than your first DC apartment, that’s for sure.

“Indeed it is,” you confirmed.

Pike parked his car and turned off the ignition. He still looked like a kicked puppy—god, he wasn’t still worried about the kiss, was he?

Fuck it. You’d been working with the man for nearly two years now, and at this point, you considered him a good friend. You never felt judged when you confided in him. Why not just be honest?

“I liked it,” you said, oddly calm.

Pike’s face scrunched up. “Huh?”

“The kiss,” you said, and _now_ your heartbeat was starting to ratchet up. “I liked it.”

His eyes widened. “Oh,” he said, voice soft.

“Yeah,” you replied. “You can… do it for real, if you want.”

Pike looked at you silently, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your mouth.

The adrenaline from earlier in the night must have been fueling your courage, because you soldiered on. “Do you want to come in?”

–

Pike followed you wordlessly to your apartment, the tension so heavy in the air you thought you might suffocate. With shaking fingers, you managed to unlock the door and flick on the lights.

As soon as the door closed behind Pike, he held you by the waist and kissed you soundly.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he said when he pulled away.

“We kissed like, an hour ago—”

“A real kiss,” he specified, bringing one hand to cup your cheek. He brushed his thumb along your lower lip like it was something precious. He kissed you again, just a soft press of lips, ever the gentleman. You thought about his thigh between your legs earlier that night and _god_ , you wanted that again. You kissed him back, firm and insistent, curling your fingers in his hair.

When you gave his hair a gentle tug, his whole body seemed to shiver, and his kiss became more daring—his tongue in your mouth, his hands inching down, down, stopping just shy of your ass.

Suddenly, he pulled away from the kiss. “I should go,” he said—but the tone of his voice made you doubt that he wanted to leave.

“What’s the matter?” You asked.

“I’m moving too fast,” he said with a wistful smile.

“ _I’m_ the one who invited you in, Pike,” you said.

“Fair point,” he said. He let his hand rest on your waist again, his fingers stroking the silky material of your dress. “It’s just—I haven’t done this in a while. Not with someone I… care about.”

 _Oh._ You knew what this was about. Teresa, the woman he was with just before he moved to DC. They were supposed to get married, but she left him for another man. You didn’t know much beyond that, but he had told you enough—that he felt he moved too fast and scared her away.

“If you want to stop now, I get it,” you said. “But I’m here to tell you I’m not going anywhere. I’ve waited two years, I can wait some more.”

You didn’t realize the weight of your words until after they left your mouth. _Shit_. He wasn’t supposed to know you’d had doe-eyes for him since the day you joined the Art Theft squad. You looked down at the floor, anywhere but his face right now.

“Two years?” He asked softly.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

“But—what about that guy you dated from Quantico?”

“He was a nice distraction,” you said.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asked.

You didn’t respond for a moment. Slowly, you looked back up from the floor to his face. His features were kind and reassuring. You took a deep breath. “Well, I’m saying it now,” you said.

He smiled. “Let’s make up for lost time, then,” he said, snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you in for another kiss.

–

After kissing you breathless, you lead him by the hand to your bedroom. He went with you eagerly, and when you sat on the edge of your bed, he followed suit.

You pushed at the lapels of his tweed jacket, getting it off his arms and onto the floor. He reached behind you, searching for your dress zipper. He found it, grinning triumphantly for a moment before pulling the zipper down. The dress fell off your shoulders, revealing—

Oh god, that _fucking_ adhesive bra.

“I’m sorry,” Pike said, sounding utterly baffled, “What _is_ this thing?”

You laughed. “You’re asking me? I had to consult the internet just to put the damn thing on.”

“How _is_ it on?”

“Adhesive,” you said.

“Do you just… rip it off? Like a bandaid?” Pike said.

“I guess?” You replied, picking at it with your fingernail. A corner of it peeled off without much force. Damn, it was flimsy.

You peeled it off the rest of the way and chucked it across the room. “Good riddance.”

Pike laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Here I was thinking skinny jeans were a pain,” he said.

“To be fair, those do look a little tight,” you said.

“They _are_. My dick hurts.” He winced, reaching down to adjust himself. “Too much information?”

You rolled your eyes. “My tits are out, Marcus, I think you’re good.”

At the mention of them, Pike was suddenly gazing at your breasts—as if he hadn’t realized he was allowed to look. He tentatively reached out and cupped one, stroking at it gently with his thumb. You sighed, arching your back. He ran his hand from your breast to your arm, where the strap of your dress had fallen. He dragged the strap down, and with a little wiggling from you, managed to get your dress on the floor, leaving you only in your underwear.

“You have way too many clothes on,” you said, working at the buttons of his shirt. He nodded, helping you get it unbuttoned the rest of the way before shrugging it off. Pike then reached for his jeans, sighing in relief as he popped the button of his fly and dragged the zipper down.

“These _fucking_ jeans,” he grumbled, wriggling his hips back and forth as he peeled the denim off his legs. When he finally got them off, they took his socks with them. He kicked the heap of clothing into the corner, landing somewhere near your dress and that flimsy piece of foam masquerading as a woman’s foundational garment.

Now it was _your_ turn to stare. From the plane of his chest, to his soft belly, to his straining hard-on in his gray boxer-briefs—he was beautiful, and you didn’t know what you wanted to touch first. The outline of his cock was the most tempting, though, and you slowly ran a hand up his thigh, stopping just short of where he was hard and aching.

“Please,” he said in a hushed tone, hitching his hips up just a little. You brushed your hand over his bulge, feather-light at first. Then you pressed a little more firmly, slowly dragging your palm against him. He groaned, hands gripping the bedcovers tightly.

Feeling bold, you got off the bed, kneeling in front of him. You tugged at the waistband of his boxers and he lifted his hips, letting you pull them down and off.

You delighted in the sight of his thick cock jutting up against his belly, the tip pink and glistening. God, you wanted him. You leaned forward and licked a hot stripe from root to tip, and the noise he made was so exquisite you could cry. Taking a light hold with your hand, you guided him into your mouth.

“Ah, _fuck_!” His hips jerked up off the bed, but you quickly held them down. You took him in as far as you could, and he moaned again—louder, more desperate. You found a rhythm, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks, your hand wrapped around what your mouth couldn’t reach. Pike offered a tentative hand to stroke your hair with reverence, his hips trembling with the effort not to move too roughly.

After a particularly sly maneuver with your tongue, Pike tensed and stilled your head with a gentle touch.

“If you don’t stop now,” he said between ragged breaths of air, “this’ll be over before it even starts.”

You pulled off of him slowly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Sorry,” you said, your voice light and teasing.

“Don’t be,” he replied. “Fuck, that was good.”

You couldn’t help but feel a burst of pride at the praise from him.

Pike patted the bed next to him. “Get up here so I can return the favor.”

You crawled up the bed, heart hammering and head dizzy with excitement. He motioned for you to lie back and you did so, taking a deep breath to try and still your racing pulse.

Pike propped himself up on his elbows and slowly kissed a path down your thigh. Your cunt throbbed in anticipation and you bucked your hips up, desperately seeking sensation. He smiled at your eagerness and held your hip down with one hand. With the other, he pushed the sodden gusset of your panties to the side and slowly slid a thick finger inside of you.

You let out a needy sound, clenching around him as he added a second finger. You were so wet that the movement of his fingers made loud, slick noises that were absolutely obscene.

Pike kissed your thigh again. “Gorgeous,” he murmured against your skin. He then pulled his fingers out of you and you whined at the loss.

“Need to get these off,” Pike explained, hooking his fingers into the elastic of your underwear and pulling them down and off.

Pike’s face was between your thighs, now, and you sobbed at the first touch of his tongue to your clit. He slid his fingers back inside your cunt and the jolt of pleasure was like a lightning strike.

“Please,” you begged, not sure what you were asking, but needing it all the same, “ _please_.”

You moaned loudly as he lapped at you ever-so-slowly with the flat of his tongue in time to the rhythm of his fingers. His unoccupied hand moved from your hip to your hand, lacing your fingers together. You squeezed his hand tightly as you found yourself already dancing dangerously close to the edge.

You started to grind your cunt against his tongue, needing the pressure just so, and he eagerly let you use his mouth for your pleasure. He alternated between licking and sucking on your clit, and you were _so_ fucking close that you could hardly stand it.

Pike pulled his mouth off you for a moment. You whined and tilted your hips up, trying to chase his tongue.

“Close?” He asked, keeping the rhythm of his fingers firm and steady inside of you.

You didn’t trust your mouth to form words, so you nodded vigorously. He got back to work, faster this time, relentless, and the heat in your belly coiled tighter and tighter until you were coming so hard you saw stars. Your thighs clamped like a vise around his head but he didn’t seem to care in the slightest, working you through your orgasm with his tongue and fingers.

You clenched around him through every aftershock. He pressed a final little kiss on your thigh before pulling his fingers out and wiping them on the sheets.

Gazing into his warm brown eyes, breathing with him in tandem, it took you a minute to realize something.

“Oh, fuck,” you said. “Condom.”

You wondered if you still had any in your bathroom cabinet from when you were still with your ex, but it had been a long time since you’d broken up. Shit.

Pike snapped to attention. “Yeah, um,” he started, hopping off the bed to retrieve his jacket, “think I have one in my wallet.”

He rummaged around in his jacket pocket, retrieving his wallet and rifling through it.

“Gotcha,” he proclaimed. He turned the foil packet around in his hands, looking for the expiration date. “And it’s still good.”

“Hallelujah,” you remarked, throwing your head back in relief. “Get over here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Pike said, making his way back to you. He knelt on the bed as he ripped open the wrapper and rolled on the condom.

Settling between your legs, he took himself in hand and rubbed at your swollen cunt before easing himself inside. You gasped at the feeling of him fully seated inside you, the delicious stretch of it achingly perfect. After a moment, he ground his hips into yours, moving out barely an inch before rocking back in. You scratched at the expanse of his back and shoulders, hitching up your hips, urging him to move.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he whispered, fucking you slow and deep. You made keening little noises with every thrust, unable to help it. You felt so _full_.

Pike began to move faster, now, his kisses swallowing up your sobbing cries. The sweet ache in your belly was building up again, and the moment you thought you would tumble over the edge, he slowed his pace. You groaned in frustration, gyrating your hips, needing him to _fuck_ you, damnit, but it felt too fucking good to complain.

When Pike slipped out of you, though, you definitely wanted to complain. However, all that came out was a petulant huff. He just chuckled and urged you to lie on your side. Slotting behind you, he guided himself back inside of you before wrapping his arms around you, holding you close to his chest. The new angle was _heaven_ and you writhed in his arms, feeling him absolutely _everywhere_.

He snaked a hand down to rub your clit while he fucked you, faster now. You cried out and grasped at his arms for something to ground you, something to keep you connected to reality, because this felt so fucking good it very well could have been a dream.

“I’m—P-Pike— _Marcus_ , I’m gonna—” You found yourself babbling, barely coherent.

“I’ve got you,” he said, the low rumble of his voice warm in your ear as he worked at your swollen little clit. That was it; you were shaking apart, trembling as he fucked you through your orgasm. The muscles of your cunt fluttered around him, every nerve in your body on fire.

Pike’s movements were becoming more erratic. Every thrust was harder than the last, and he moved his hand to grasp at your hip as he rutted into you frantically. You squeezed down on his cock, wanting to push him over the edge.

“Fuck, _fuck_!” He lasted a few more desperate thrusts before he was coming, too, biting into the skin of your shoulder and holding you tightly to him.

You both stayed there for a while, breathing heavily, all fucked-out and blissful. You nestled closer into him and he hummed into your shoulder.

“Be right back,” Pike mumbled, holding himself at the base and easing his cock out of you. You sighed at the feeling of emptiness—part of you wished he could just stay there all night.

As you stretched out on your bed, he shuffled off into your bathroom. You heard the tap run for a moment before he returned, condom off—presumably in the trash—and a damp washcloth in hand.

The press of the cool washcloth felt good on your hot and throbbing cunt; he then wiped down your thighs, where an embarrassing amount of your slick had dribbled down.

“Thank you,” you murmured as you looked up at him. He kissed your cheek.

It was bugging you, and you couldn’t help but ask. “You tied the condom off and threw it out, right?”

Pike raised an eyebrow. “Yes?” He said. “What, did Quantico not tie them off first?”

“Worse,” you grumbled, “he _flushed_ them.”

Pike snorted. “That’s a new one on me.”

“Had to call a goddamn plumber,” you continued.

“Please tell me at least the sex was good.”

“It was _awful_ ,” you groaned. “You should have kissed me sooner.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I’ll make up for it.”

“You better, Agent Pike,” you teased before giving him a peck on the lips.

He was having none of that; he pulled you in for a proper kiss. “I will,” he said, “I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> me: I'm never going to write readerfic, ever
> 
> pedro pascal: *exists*
> 
> me: oop


End file.
